Dying Innocence
by xIreth Calaelenx
Summary: We all grow old eventually. We all have pasts. Sometimes those pasts are painful... Sometimes happy and fun times simply cannot last forever.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note: Okay so I should be working on Frozen Path right now, and believe me I am… I just couldn't get this idea out of my head. My only warning is that it's very sad. It will only be around two or three chapters so it's not going to be very long. Hope you enjoy. Please read and review.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Big Time Rush.**

The breeze was lightly blowing across the tired street in a way that was not entirely unpleasant. The sky was lit with stars, just beginning to appear from beneath the clouds as day came to an end and night fast approached. A deep crimson glow settled in the distance like a blanket, covering what was left of the fading sunlight and hiding it beneath a thick veil. Loud chatter had settled to dull conversation as people rushed home, ignoring the people they passed and pushing past shop windows. From above you could see the way that the shop lights blinked out one by one, as people closed up for the night and headed home.

An old man in a tattered and dirty coat shifted slightly in his position sleeping against a shop wall. His beard was covered in dust and his hands were scarred and torn from years of hard work. The hands trembled despite his will, even in sleep and his body shook from the bitter chill. No one could have seen because he had his eyes closed, but despite his haggard appearance his eyes were still shimmering brown and filled with youth. Though they had seen much they had not grown like the rest of him had. They hadn't changed as he grew older…But now, sleeping by the wall at the side of an old coffee shop, stripped of all dignity he'd gained in his long life, he could only live life as he was now. He drifted… He went where the wind took him and didn't look back. He was scared that if he looked back, he'd never leave again. It was too painful.

When the street was almost clear of the people rushing to get home and the red was beginning to fade behind the mountains a figure began to walk towards the old man. The person stood at a distance away that meant that they were silhouetted against the red of the sky. The darkening chains of ruby seemed to crawl away from their source like snakes and criss-crossing over each other like veins. A deep black shadow seemed to de drawing ominously closer to the red glow, seemingly assuring it that night world come, and even its final traces of sunlight would never last.

The figure walked with some uncertainty. The slightly rushed steps suggested someone who was unsure of what they were doing, but the figures bright blue eyes were wide and fixed on the man, betraying its feelings of determination. As the figure drew closer passers-by could see that it was a girl, she couldn't have been older that fifteen. She had light blond hair that fell down to her shoulder blades in carefully styled curls, but it was pulled away from her face by a headband. She wore prescription glasses can carried with her a little notebook and a black pen. The two items shook in her grasp as she trembled, clearly nervous and afraid.

She hesitantly drew closer to the sleeping figure, but was startled when his eyes snapped open. He gazed at her with a look that was afraid at first but then melted away into an expression of indifference. His eyes slowly closed again, hiding his eyes behind dark eyelashes.

"Mr Mitchell?" She questioned fearfully, her voice soft and quiet.

"Hmm…" He hummed in response, cracking one eye open and smirking slightly. "You know my name then?"

"Yes, but only from the locals." She whispered, but her face looked slightly more composed. Her mind was set back on the task at hand. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat as the breeze whipped her hair over her shoulder in a particularly large gust. "My name is Lucy and I'm talking to you for my school project."

Mr Mitchell chuckled under his breath. "You do realise this is dangerous right?" She looked at him confused for a couple of seconds a little bit thrown off by his question. "What, didn't your parents teach you about stranger danger kid? What age are you? Twelve?" Lucy bristled at this and her gaze darkened significantly. She had always been aware about looking younger than she actually was. She often liked to try and blame her glasses, but in truth she was a very short and slim girl who had slightly large cheeks and large, inquisitive blue eyes.

"Actually I can take care of myself, "she defended sharply. "And I'm fifteen so I think I know what's good for me."

"You teenagers nowadays…" Mr Mitchell sighed, shaking his head. "You all think that you're invincible don't you. Well, I guess that much hasn't changed over the years. You think you can just come out here and talk to someone random on the street you don't even know. What would your parents say if they knew you spoke to strangers on the street?"

She looked down at her hands slightly, twirling her hand around her pen nervously. "Actually, they wouldn't care. I live at the care home in the next town over. Janet will be livid when I get back, but I really wanted this interview for school…" She bit her lip, her eyes welling up slightly. "But if you think I should go I will."

Mr Mitchell breathed deeply, looking at the scars on his hands and the deep lacerations that had faded to dark scars that would never fade. Those scars were all the reminders he had left of his glory days. The days before everything turned sour and he lost his innocence forever. They served as memories of what he had lost and the day that all the good things in his life ended.

"Look kid I don't approve but you're here now. I won't hurt you but you're lucky," he said, his tone dark. "Next time think twice before talking to strangers." Lucy could only nod eagerly as she sat down in front of Mr Mitchell. She seemed to radiate excitement. Mr Mitchell was almost certain that she had taken very little of what he had said to heart, but he ignored it regardless. Something about her reminded him of someone from his past, someone equally as energetic and happy. However, from that memory Mr Mitchell recoiled sharply from the coil of pain that was wrapped tightly around it.

"So what would you like to know?" He asked, trying to contain the laughter he felt when he saw that she was literally bouncing up and down on her knees.

"I'd like to know how you ended up on the street. I'd like to know about your life and what it was like when you were my age. I want to know about your experiences and your life," she finished picking up her pen and preparing to start writing. "I'm doing this project on homeless people you see. That's why I was asking the locals. So far I know that a lot of people become homeless because of family feuds, lack of money and traumatic experiences. However, I've never had the opportunity to actually talk to someone face to face about it."

Mr Mitchell flinched inwardly. He wasn't sure he liked where the conversation was going anymore. Answering her questions might lead to him opening some doors, opening some doors that held secrets Mr Mitchell had locked tightly away to the back of his mind.

"I don't know about that kid…" Mr Mitchell sighed, but Lucy's eyes were practically begging. She looked so eager that it was as if she might explode into multi-coloured fireworks at any moment. "Please…" she pleaded her voice reaching a higher volume. "I'm really interested in this field. Working with homeless people is something that I really want to do when I'm older."

Mr Mitchell sighed again and the air around him seemed to deflate around him, mirroring his despair as if in sympathy.

"Well kid, I don't know how you've managed it, but I'm gonna say something's that I never thought I'd say out loud ever again," he ran his hands through his grey hair. "I honestly thought I'd be carrying these secrets to the grave. "

Quickly, as if not wanting to change his mind he dug his hand into his coat and pulled out and old and slightly torn photograph. It was crumpled and had obviously been folded many times, but Lucy could vaguely make out four boys on the photograph. She looked at his hesitantly for a moment, but when he nodded sadly at her she quickly took the photograph from his hands. She scanned the image for a couple of seconds. Each of the boys were very handsome, and they all had large smiles on their faces that seemed to glow off of the paper. They had their arms flung around each other's necks and were clearly the best of friends. The smallest boy was a Latino that had a smile so bright that it leapt off of the page, next to him was another taller boy with large muscles and probably wore more products in his hair than most of the girls Lucy knew. There was a blond boy next to him, also muscly but he had large eyebrows and wore a beanie hat. The boy next to him was smaller than the two middle boys, but was taller that the shortest, he had a soft smile on his face and his shimmering brown eyes sparkled happily…

"Wow, they look so happy," she commented wistfully. Mr Mitchell sighed, "Well this is the story of my life. You ready kid?"

She picked up the notepad and nodded happily. "Thank you Mr Mitchell."

Mr Mitchell laughed softly.

"Please, call me Logan. My name is Logan Mitchell."


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay so now that I know where this story is going it may be a couple more chapters than what I had anticipated. It will still be quite short though. Thank you to all of you who favourited and followed this story. Oh and thank you to vikwhis13 for the lovely review! Enjoy and please review!**

The fireplace glowed in the corner of the room, flames flickering high into the air. Harsh, orange flames scattered into the air, tiny pinpricks of light glittering as they rose. A heavy silence hovered in the room, seemingly making all other things in the room stop also. A dull whistling sounded in the silence, a surprisingly cheery tune for the dark atmosphere that hovered in the room. However, it lacked any of the happiness in the tune because in the room it sounded fake and eerie. The notes sounded sharp and angry, despite the carefree nature of the song. The darkness that surrounded the room was definite and created a veil, protecting the room from the sight of anyone who wasn't close to the fireplace. The fireplace itself glimmered and glowed like a beacon.

In the corner of the room there were some harmless children's toys, watching the scene through glazed over glass eyes. They couldn't move so they just watched the scene. The puppets remained firmly attached to their strings and the teddy bears remained as silent as ever through stuffed and sewn shut mouths. From the moment they saw what they saw they were hopeless, simply because they weren't real.

One person however who was not helpless was the little shape of a boy who was stood in the hallway. The light of the fire flickered behind his widened brown eyes as he took in the sight in front of him. Frozen in place like a statue, the little boy looked on, his hands clenched into fists but his body unmoving. He could hear his heartbeat slamming in his ears like a hammer and his eyes filled with tears that would never fall.

At least not that night…

Silhouetted against the fireplace he could see two shadows. One was clearly the shadow of a woman, her dress falling around her body like a curtain. She struggled and writhed against the grip of the larger shadow, her slim frame flailing like a delicate butterfly caught in a net. The larger shadow seemed to be shaking with exertion and rage, but it was clearly the shadow of a man. It hovered above the shadow beneath it, gripping its hands tightly around the other shadows neck. The woman seemed to rise off of the floor, her hands reaching and scratching at whatever skin she could reach. She settled for the man's arms, scraping her nails down the arms of the monster, tearing at the skin there. He, however, continued choking her while the child in the corner watched on helpless, like a leaf being blown away by a strong breeze.

Voices that sounded hushed in the child's ears, censored by the innocence of youth, rang out through the otherwise silent rooms. Curse words and helpless choked off pleas, made all the noise in the room, completing the image of a cat attacking a helpless bird. Somewhere within the darkness and violence, a gleaming silver knife was raised, reflecting the red of the flames against its surface. As it fell a sheet of pure red also descended, seemingly painting the young boys whole world red.

The red that poured from the woman's chest splattered across the floor in a grotesque pattern, like a form of twisted art. The puppets got blood caught in their strings and across their eyes. They saw everything. Even more than the little boy…

They saw the man's face.

Like a flash the man was out of the window and out of the little boy's life. Or at least in principle… In his wake he left the woman lying in a pool of blood, slowly seeping from her motionless body. Her brown eyes were thrown open wide in fear but frozen over in death.

She now held within her, the same amount of life in her delicate body as the little boy's precious toys…

xxx

"Mum!" Logan screamed, flailing his limbs as if trying to escape for his bed sheets or some invisible foe.

Lost in the memory of the dream his eyes filled with tears and he began to cry. James quickly sat up from his position next to Logan's bed, startled awake by his friends wild scream. He watched wide eyed as Logan screamed and cried, tearing at his brown hair as if in agony or in the middle of some kind of fit.

"Logan? Logan what happened?" Kendall asked, running inside of the room at top speed. He'd clearly been woken for his light doze in the next room by Logan's cry. He knelt next to Logan's bed and immediately began to run his hand through Logan's messed up hair. He'd hoped the gesture would be comforting for his friend, but he was startled when Logan's cries seemed to increase.

Carlos stood in the doorway of the room, clearly unsure what to do. He'd been terrified when he'd heard his friends scream, but now it seemed even worse. His friend looked almost hysterical. He was gripping the bed sheets tightly in his hands, with startling amounts of force. His knuckles appeared white and stretched against the pale skin. Tears ran down his face but he didn't even try to wipe them away.

James looked on completely clueless. The boys knew that Logan had had nightmares about his mother's death since they were very young, but never had Logan appeared so terrified.

"Logan, it's fine, it's fine…" Kendall murmured, holding Logan to his shoulder. His friend was literally shaking from the force of his sobs, and his breathing had quickened to an alarming rate. Kendall was no genius when it came to anything medical, but from what he had learned from listening to Logan, he was close to hyperventilating if he wasn't careful.

"Logan calm down please…" Carlos whispered, but as if his voice was quickly lost within Logan's screams. Almost as if he'd said something terrible Carlos quickly put his hand across his mouth and dropped down to his knees by the doorway, also dissolving into sobs. James, feeling completely helpless to help Logan instead turned to run towards Carlos, putting his hand steadily on his friends shoulder and whispering soothing words to him to calm him down. Carlos was very sensitive when it came to his friends getting hurt. The boys would argue that he was too sensitive at times...

"Logan, Logan…" Kendall whispered, rubbing his friends back in circles to calm him down. Kendall let out a sigh of relief when Logan's cries faded off to choked sobs and hiccups.

"Sorry…" Logan whispered, still crying but breathing easier now.

"There's nothing to be sorry for buddy… Nightmare?" Kendall asked, still staying by Logan's bedside. For a second Kendall let his eyes stray to where James was looking at him worriedly. He sent James a reassuring smile, trying to convey to him that it seemed like the worst was over. James nodded slightly and turned back to Carlos who was still crying softly.

"Yeah… I- I scared Carlos didn't I?" Logan asked, craning his eyes to see his friend, guilt clouding his features. Kendall gently nudged Logan to the side so that he was blocking the shorter boys view. "No he's fine. Don't worry about it. Are you okay?"

"Can- Can I call my dad?" Logan asked looking up to Kendall's face with shining eyes. Kendall looked back over his shoulder to see that the room was now empty apart from the two boys. Clearly James had taken Carlos out of the bedroom.

"Sure buddy, I'll go get the phone okay?" Kendall asked, getting up to leave the room when Logan nodded.

Kendall sighed sadly when he looked back and saw Logan with his head buried in his hands. Sometimes Kendall wished he could take all the suffering away for Logan… Sure his dad had died just like Logan's mum. But unlike Logan he hadn't seen his parent brutally murdered in front of his innocent and naïve eyes. That was something that would surely haunt Logan until the day he died.

The wind blew through the slightly open window in the bedroom. The wind was soft but cold. As it raised the curtains it seemed to make a whispering noise. It was almost as if the wind itself was trying to convey a message. A message that no one could really hear.

It was a silent warning.

A warning that no one would ever hear…

At least not until it was too late.

**Okay guys, I'm seriously not sure about this chapter. Hope you liked it… Please review and let me know what you think about this so far?**


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